


life and love i dont deserve

by pomegarnet



Series: get blurry, sloppy, boozy and blind [2]
Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Study, Great Fix Exchange of 2016, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Muslim Mary Bolkonsky, Nonbinary Natasha Rostova, Open Relationships, Relationship Study, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pomegarnet/pseuds/pomegarnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha Rostova doesn't understand space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	life and love i dont deserve

**Author's Note:**

> hey so this is my fic for the great fic exchange of 2016!
> 
> original prompt: Natasha gen + - kind of falling in love with everyone and not sure what to do about it
> 
> brief content warning: there isnt anything explicit, but there is implied self harm and suicide and an unhealthy relationship (natasha and anatole)
> 
> stay safe while reading ok! 
> 
> also natasha uses they/them pronouns :)

Natasha Rostova never understood the stars.

 

Andrey enjoyed the stars, always mesmerized by them, he _was_ a star, _their_ star. The man had always drifted around the town, wandering along the course of the wind, going who ever the breeze would take him, eyes glittering and shining with naivety, not knowing where he would go, but being ready and capable for wherever he ends up.

 

Natasha doesn't think that he was ready to bump into them one evening in the freezing and blissful winter.

 

“Are you alright?” He asks, lifting them off the icy and slick ground.

 

“Yes, I’m alright. Thank you for asking,” Natasha answers, rubbing the excess snow off of their skirt before turning back on their path to the library

 

“I didn’t mean to bump into you,” They hear him calling after her, footsteps soft in the burrows and piles of snow, “I’m sorry for doing that to you.” He says politely and courteously.

 

Natasha does not have the energy of the time to play and appease to the charming men’s words “It’s ok,” They say hurriedly.

 

“Alright then,” He says as they begin to walk to their destination. “Where are you going?”

 

Natasha rolls their eyes and purses their lips, their nose scrunching up in the process. They relax and turn their head over their shoulder to call out to the man, “I’m going to the library.”

 

He hurries along to walk by their side, gazing deeply at them as they try to not peer back at him. “Let me accompany you.” He insists.

 

“No, that isn't necessary. I know where I'm going.”

 

“But are you going where the best library is?”

 

Natasha stops in their tracks at that question, blinking and sneering in confusion. “What is that supposed to mean?” They ask, turning to the stranger.

 

“Do you plan on going to the community library?” He asks. They nod in response, and he grimaces at that, “That won’t do!” He takes their cold and un-gloved hand and holds it in his warm and gloved one, “Someone as lovely as yourself should go to a better one.” He says.

 

Natasha’s cheeks flush rose red at his words, their eyes darting away from his, focusing in on the thick snow surrounding their feet instead of the stars shining in his eyes or the praise leaving his mouth as if it were poetry. They twist their feet deeper into the snow, leaving a footprint of their boot. “Where do you suggest I go then?”

 

“The current college I’m attending has this wonderful library with a bountiful amount of books there. Are you interested?”

 

“You’re in college?”

 

“Yeah, I do. Second year”

 

“I’m going to college next year. Maybe, I’m not exactly sure yet. I might take a break.”

 

“Do whatever you need,” He says before pausing and grinning his shining smile, something so bright that the stars lower their eyes in shame,“I’m Andrey.”

 

They turn their head to face him, looking into his eyes on the barren street. No one else was in presence at this moment, just them and the vibrant and saturated yellow gleam of the streetlights. It’s undoubtedly romantic to them, they were always such a hopeless and helpless romantic to the

 

“I’m Natasha. It’s nice to meet you.” They say, a light flush creeping up and resting on their neck and shoulders, infatuation attempting to make room with her soul.

 

Natasha Rostova always adored the stars.

 

* * *

  


Natasha Rostova never understood the sun.

 

The concept of college is strange and unrealistic to them; something otherworldly. They weren’t used to school after their break between freshman year in college and graduating from high school. The stress had piled high on their shoulders, and Natasha hopes that by their families vague praises and compliments that they achieved and passed their expectations.

 

Their new class schedule was thrilling. They haven't been the most decisive about choosing their major and classes; and while they were somewhat satisfied with it, it wasn't the best option they could have.

 

However, Natasha had more worthwhile things to waste their energy on rather than fretting about their school life. Their Andrey, their shining star, their heart, has already left for Europe and studying abroad for his senior year of college. Before he had left, he’d set them up with his sister to be roommates for the year, along with Natasha’s dear and beloved cousin. While Natasha was older than Mary by a year, Andrey had always praised his sister in private for her maturity and loyalty.

 

Natasha wonders how they missed his thoughts on his sister converting to Islam.

 

The other girl was unpacking her scarves, a rerun episode of some basic and dull sitcom playing in the background, loud enough for Mary to not notice Natasha entering the barren apartment.

 

Natasha rolls their luggage against the wall before awkwardly and uncomfortably sitting on it, slowly but surely falling off of the luggage. They watch the mannerisms other woman, how she seems closed and restrained; sharp yet plain and basic. Uninteresting, is the main definition of Mary Bolkonsky that Natasha currently understands as they slide further off the luggage. They find her a tad untrustworthy, perhaps even judgmental-- in spite of Natasha judging her at the moment-- someone incapable of being read and analyzed. But they’re not afraid of that, they have never feared anyone, _certainly_ not someone as plain as--

 

They have their thought interrupted by them falling off of their resting place on their luggage. Natasha doesn't feel pain, though they do grimace a little at the noise they have made.

 

“Oh,” Natasha’s face flushes in embarrassment as they snap their head up to see who's speaking the words, “Hello…”

 

“Hello.” Natasha murmurs. They observe Mary closer. Her hijab is nothing extraordinary in their opinion; neither are the generic black sweater and boring black skirt she’s wearing, or the plain flats covering her small feet. As for what Natasha has so far observed, Mary is petite yet tall, small and nimble and dangerous. Natasha can put… whatever they are feeling aside to admire a gorgeous woman when they see one, and Mary is beautiful, flushed cheeks and long eyelashes and all.

 

Mary, however, is scowling at the way Natasha is looking at her. She can tell that they’re shallow and freakish, careless and dainty and impulsive. Mary predicts that Natasha Rostova is going to massively fuck up soon. Anyone, can make that prediction, as it is such an obvious trait of the others personality, the recklessness, someone action-orientated and depthless. Despite the heaps of praise and attention that Andrey has drenched them in, they still appear unsatisfied and vain, and Mary doesn’t quite believe Andrey’s compliments and pages upon pages of poetry to the other as much as she once did.

 

“Your room is over there,” Mary says, unintrigued, pointing a faulting finger over to the door next to the room. “You’ll share with your cousin when she arrives.”

 

Natasha’s heart and optimism piques up at the mention of their dear cousin. Sonya is devoted to the needs of her cousin, trustworthy and kind, an anchor to Natasha’s many impulses and undirected ideas. They can't wait to see her again.

 

Natasha sets up everything they have in their room half and hour past midnight. They had always leaned towards the night, or perhaps it had been that wherever their star was, that they were both awake, and both madly in love.

 

Natasha won’t lie about their disappointment at the petite size of their room. They had always preferred more deluxe and luxurious things due to their expensive yet impeccable taste. Natasha was confused by the size of the apartment. All three of the attendees living in there had families more than capable and willing to fund an enjoyable living condition for all of them apart. They scold themselves internally for being shallow and unappreciative like that, how dare they _even_ think like that! They never valued anything they had--

 

The room had been hastily finished by them in a storm of self loathing and cold thoughts, freezing like the cold.

 

Natasha misses Andrey.

 

They dream of running off with him, wherever the stars and moon take them through the night. Just them and the world; just them and _their_ world. The two lovers alone together, gazing at the night sky and one another.

 

 _God, how they miss him_!

 

They don’t get much sleep that night, leading for them to be bitter and furious and tired and spiteful and.

 

Natasha is _not_ a morning person.

 

Their roommate, however, seems to be the loveliest, vivacious and sweetest person in the morning. Mary had a warm and pleasant smile on her face as she sat politely on the couch, her legs crossed over one another, her nose deep in a book. “How are you? Did you sleep well?” Mary asks them, looking up from her book and glancing at them with kind and welcoming eyes.

 

“I’m not a morning person.”

 

“A lot of people aren't. The sun has always been there for me, I really need it sometimes,” She says before the tea pot begins to boil, “Oh! There’s the tea! Would you like some, Natasha?”

 

Natasha is off put by Mary’s sudden warmth and affection towards them, but they find themselves reciprocating the care, affection, tenderness and lo--

 

_No, no!_

 

This wasn't right, it was ruthless and improper to betray Andrey like this. Natasha had already seen put to promise her soul, heart and mind to Andrey, and it was idiotic of them to feel the same feelings to his _sister!_

 

“No!” Mary turns her head back at Natasha’s loud statement and scurried state. Natasha hurries to correct their mistake, “No, sorry, I don’t like tea that much,” They pause and look down at their hands, clasping each other tightly, “I’m… going back to sleep.”

 

Natasha Rostova always adored the sun.

 

* * *

  


Natasha Rostova never understood asteroids.

 

They hear of a woman that'll change the world with her presence, with the smallest mention of her name, the hint of anything relating to her will tear the world apart.

 

She knows this because Marya doesn't like her.

 

Sonya is dejected from the conversation, draped on her belly over the red bean bag in the corner of the room, tapping away nonsensically at her phone, giving little grunts and nods to Marya’s incessant nagging.

 

“And she always tries to one-up me! Doesn’t she realize that you can't stage _me!_ I’m not gonna let that little _rat_ steal _my_ thunder, oh no!” Marya complains as she rapidly paces across the small room.

 

“I don’t even think she gives a damn about you” Natasha says, an attempt to calm the eldest down. Sonya nods, not paying attention.

 

“How do you know that? You’ve never met her, _interacted_ with her!”

 

“Yes, I haven't, but I also don’t think she’s as wicked as you claim. You do tend to over exaggerate a lot.”

 

“They’re right!” Sonya calls from the bean bag chair.

 

Marya ignores the insight Natasha and Sonya give her on the subject, focusing in more on her own personal anger. “You know, Natalie--”

 

“You can call me Natasha if you want. Everyone does--”

 

“It’s a blessing that you’ve never met her!” Marya says loudly, “Dear Natasha, if you ever cross paths, remember to _rue_ the day you met Helénè Kuragina!” She declares.

 

“I don't think it’s that deep, Marya.”

 

“You’re _supposed_ to be on _my_ side, Sonya!”

 

Sonya looks at Marya perplexingly, setting her phone down for once, “ _Firstly_ ,” She begins curtly, “I’m always on _Natasha’s_ side--”

 

“And why is that?” Marya interrupts abruptly.

 

“Because they're always right,” Sonya says, pausing then continuing, “Secondly, who the hell _rues_ people anymore? How do you _rue_ a person?” She asks.

 

“You dramatically point at the ceiling and scream,” Natasha sneers.

 

“ _You_ two haven’t met her!”

 

“Considering your track record, I don't think she's as wicked as you claim.” Sonya says.

 

“Well, make your own judgement call when you meet her!”

 

Natasha didn’t expect to have met the woman herself later in the day.

 

Helénè Kuragina is a mesmerizing and fine women, brilliant in heart and mind, intelligent, convincing and lovely. Natasha had found themselves more confused with Marya’s intense dislike to the women, for the women was a charming one, someone you could simply yet passionately fall into deep love with.

 

Natasha doesn’t speak with her, interact with her, just admires the stunner from afar. Natasha is guilty and sinful, too shrouded and unappreciative in Andrey’s adorations, not loving him as they should. Natasha scolds themselves for being a traitor, a wretch for stealing hearts and desiring others. Should they not accept this by now? Break it off, break everything off with everyone, turn to introversion and live in a cage of their mistakes, their faults.

 

Natasha will one day orchestrate their ruin, thrash and break apart, torn and shattered by an asteroid of their adoration.

 

Natasha Rostova adores asteroids.

 

* * *

  


Natasha Rostova never understood black holes.

 

They always thought it was something too incomprehensible; you fall in and it envelops you, sucks you in until you become part of the black hole itself.

 

Anatole Kuragin is a black hole.

 

He promises that he will take them away, away from everyone else, they don’t matter, nothing matters, just them and no one else.

 

He says to them one day, he takes their wrist. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

 

“Yes.” They say, as if they’re pummeled and layered by boulders, but still breathing. Drowning his eyes, his words, his scent, and they have finally learned how to breathe.

 

Sonya finds out.

 

Sonya does _not_ find out, no, she thinks she does, but she doesn’t get it.

 

“How do you find something you don’t understand?” Natasha asks Sonya as she crumples down into the corner in shock and panic. How immature and pathetic of Sonya, so worthless and small, begging on her knees and praying. It won’t work, you can’t stop love, Natasha has figured this out themself, they’re just extending their knowledge to their once closest friend.

 

Natasha walks towards the door, says “I hate you, Sofia.’ at the weakling in the corner before shutting the door and waiting for him.

 

He plans it out, the genius he is, orchestrates the whole thing. Natasha wants to worship at the fact he doesn’t flinch when his confidantes reprimands him for considering to do this. He tells Natasha he doesn’t need the others, he only needs them. He takes them by their wrist.

 

Marya ruins their plan to ruin. She takes Natasha by their wrist, dragging them along with Sonya staggering behind miserably as she begins to boil at Natasha, “You fool! You idiotic and self deprecating fool!”” She shrieks rapidly, on and on and on. It floods Natasha’s minds to the point that it no longer affects them, they’ve become numb and senseless, lost to the world. Marya’s screams and Sonya’s begging and the world’s judgements will never change the fact that they are entirely his.

 

They, once again fall in love with the sight of the color red tied around their wrists.

 

Sonya screeches, and screams and shrieks and shouts and sobs and shatters.

 

Anatole leaves, runs off, gets scared off. Natasha doesn’t care though, no matter what everyone tells them.

 

Natasha Rostova will always adore black holes

 

* * *

  


Natasha Rostova doesn’t understand comets.

 

Mary signs them up for a support group. Mary never questions how everything happened, bless her soul.

 

Peter Kirillovich is there.

 

They recall meeting him once; back when Andrey was theirs, before all that has happened. They mention it to him once, their voice choked and eternally weak, “You knew Andrey.”

 

Pierre’s voice is tiny, soft and patient, “Yes, yes. He was my friend, he still is.”

 

“Oh. That’s nice.”

 

“Do, do--” Pierre stammers on his words, appearing suddenly introverted, quiet and sky, “You need me to listen to you speak? I am good at listening.”

 

The words he says clouds Natasha’s senses. Listen? How would they even know what to say! What _could_ they even say? They don’t deserve to have someone listen to them, they could corrupt the helpless person with their naive and idiotic words, too oversensitive and frightened as if they were a child.

 

“No!”

 

“What? What’s wrong?” Pierre asks, shaking from their words and the cold.

 

“I don’t need it-- I don’t deserve it!” They claim as their voice cracks and shatters, as frail as ice. They curl up in on themselves, emotionless and weak and fragile and pathetic. They hate it.

 

Pierre’s face is pitiful and stoic as he slowly pats them on the shoulder as they close in on themselves more, “Stop. It’s ok, you have people who care about you, they want you to be better. They love you.”

 

Natasha snaps their head up to glare at Pierre with tear stricken cheeks and eyes. “I don’t deserve their love.”

 

“Stop! Please, just, just…” Pierre pauses, taking their hand in his, “Listen.”

 

Natasha closes their eyes, more tears falling in the process, a pout forming on their mouth.

 

“You have an entire life ahead, you’re young! Everyone goes through it, you’ll be ok, it’ll be fine, you’ll be ok.”

 

His words help. They don’t heal everything immediately, it doesn't work like that, but it’s alright for now. Natasha must take their leave, they rub the tears away from their eyes and breathe in and out. They stand to leave the room, but they make a point to turn back and smile at Pierre before exiting.

 

Natasha Rostova adores comets.

 

* * *

  


It takes a long time for Natasha to comprehend space.

 

Sonya is supportive, if a little doting on Natasha. She becomes more maternal towards her younger yet taller cousin. Sonya smiles each time when Natasha says that they love her.

 

Marya doesn’t say much to Natasha after her outrageous scolding. She makes sure that they eat and drink and sleep, helps them occasionally with the stress of school. It’s fine for now.

 

Mary is kind and friendly to her. They date for a while before agreeing to have an open relationship. Mary gets some crushes on a couple of girls and Natasha lets her practice cheesy and punny pickup lines on them.

 

Andrey graduates and never speaks to her again.

 

They hadn’t heard anything of Anatole’s whereabouts.

 

Pierre invites them to a party once. They ditch it twenty minutes into the party to go gaze and observe the stars. Pierre compares Natasha to the moon.

  
They say that they always adored the moon.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope yall enjoyed! :) 
> 
> im on tumblr @garnetcomets 
> 
> (also btw i love comments,,,)


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